Seasons come and go
by ravenwritingclaw
Summary: Years after series 3 of "Animals of Farthing Wood," the animals have adjusted to their new lives (and losses). Feel free to leave a review!


**Author's Note:** After rewatching series 2/3 of "Animals of Farthing Wood," I couldn't help but write a piece about my favourite pairings from the series. Enjoy and feel free to leave a review.

* * *

Raindrops pelted the den of Vixen and her famous mate Fox, of Farthing Wood. With her head resting on her paws she stared at the fox she loved dearly. An old fox now, well past his prime, but still, his eyes shone the same way they did when they first met. She still shuddered whenever she heard the distant trumpet of a hunting horn.

Vixen shifted her gaze to the entrance to their den. With only themselves inside it now, she found she wished for company more often. Fox slept more than he used to, and while his mate was just as old as he, the grandchildren she cared for kept her young. Well, great-grandchildren now, if she thought hard enough on it. It was so hard to keep track of all the red foxes running around White Deer Park. They almost outnumbered the blues.

Thunder cracked. Vixen jumped. She remembered when Dreamer used to sit at the front of their den and watch the rain pour from the sky. Vixen often wondered what her little kit thought about during that time. She never got a chance to ask. Whether it was through the fault of Scarface or some other misfortune, Vixen didn't really care. Her daughter was still dead, no matter how she looked at it. She closed her eyes. She would still give anything to have her daughter back.

_But at least there is Charmer._ Yes, thank goodness for that. What litter was Charmer on, her third now? Yes, that had to be it. Her offspring were just as charming as their mother and some even sensible, like their father. Vixen smiled. Her mate may still be wary of trusting Ranger, even after all these seasons had passed, but Vixen felt comfort in knowing her daughter found true love in the park. It didn't happen as much as Vixen would like it to.

Fox grunted in his sleep, or at least she thought it was sleep. His front legs stretched out, flexing, before curling back up to prop up his head. The rain came down harder. Vixen took a deep breath. She may hate thunderstorms, but the smell of rain was the most wonderful thing. She wrapped her tail around Fox's and started to fall asleep to the sound of raindrops over her head.

Charmer peeked inside her parents' den. "They're asleep, just as you thought," she whispered to her mate. Ranger just smirked, causing his mate to flick her tail at his nose. "Cheeky thing. They should have named you Cheeky!" she teased quietly. She turned away from her dozing parents with Ranger hot on her trail.

"My dad never was that clever," he pointed out with a grin. Charmer had to agree. She hated Scarface for various reasons, but the main one was how he treated his children. Sometimes, when Ranger thought she was sleeping, he would tell her stories of his childhood. Charmer could never understand how a father could be so cruel to his son, especially one who so obviously wanted to please him, at least in the beginning.

Ranger nuzzled her cheek. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, raising his voice due to the constant crack of thunder above.

Charmer shrugged. "I don't know, nothing really." She glanced at her bulging stomach. "How many do you think this season?"

"With you? Who knows! I could have seven extra mouths to feed come the end of May," he chuckled. She smiled in reply. Their first litter arrived early and with only four little kits to raise hell in White Deer Park. The next litter with six. Ranger could very well be right with his guess.

She worried sometimes that what happened to Plucky when he was young would happen to her kits. _If there's too many foxes, they might separate us._ Charmer couldn't bear the thought.

Ranger nudged her with his nose. "You need to stop worrying, my dear. Our kits will be well taken care of, always. And that's a promise!"

Charmer knew he was right. He had an awful habit of being right most of the time. She licked his cheek then scampered off down the path, laughing as she went.

Above the racing foxes rested Owl on her perch. She cracked open one eye and frowned at the stupid animals below. _Honestly, who do they think they are, running around in the middle of a storm? Crazy foxes. _She ruffled her feathers then shut her eyes again, hoping to fall back asleep as quickly as possible. Rain was awful for her feathers. The less she had to witness the dampness seep in, the better.

The branch dipped a little and she felt something land on her feet. A field mouse was there, recently killed. Her mate Hollow was there too. "And what, pray tell, is this supposed to be?"

"Your dinner, of course, what does it look like?" Hollow replied before consuming a tidbit himself. She watched him down another and wished she had an appetite.

"Aren't you going to eat it?" he asked.

"You have it, I insist," she said.

Hollow rolled his eyes. "This isn't the first set of owlets we've raise. You know you need to eat more. How can you be strong enough to hunt when the time comes?"

Some days Owl wished she never found Hollow. She missed her solitary existence. At least her offspring were gone. Still in the park, mind you, but more time for Owl to fly off on her own without the weight of owlets back at the nest making her cut her trips short.

Other days, she wasn't sure what she would have done if she had never met him. Hollow could be just as pretentious as she was, and he certainly got on her nerves more often than not, but at least he was here. He would never leave her or be cruel to her like others had, like her friends of Farthing Wood.

Hollow shoved the dead mouse closer to her. "Eat up, my love." She felt her skin blush beneath her feathers. He knew that term always made her smile. She scarfed down the meat then moved closer to him on the branch. He adjusted his wing and placed it around her. Yes, some days she was very glad she found him.

Adder hated the rain, but only for one very specific reason: Sinuous had loved it. She hated using past tense with him. Even after all these years, or what felt like years, she still expected to see him underneath a rock somewhere, just waiting to surprise her with a rat or some such thing.

Adder hated rats more than she could ever hate rain. She swallowed her hatred and let it boil in her gut. She looked up at a nearby oak to see Owl and her mate hiding up there. She narrowed her eyes. _Lucky girl. Sssssshe gets it all, in the end._ Adder turned her back on her old friend. Let her have her mate and little babies. Adder didn't give a damn anyway. She didn't need anyone, not like the others in the stupid park.

She hadn't needed Sinuous either. She wished she didn't miss him so much. Adder slithered past an occupied hovel, hoping to find a big enough rock to curl up under.

The flicker of lightning against her eyelids woke Whisper up. She had been dreaming again, this time of Bold. It was always Bold. She heard someone breathing beside her. Whisper didn't recognize this red fox. His fur was as dark as hers but his ears were tipped white instead of black. He was older than her by at least a season. He must have met her the night before while hunting. That had to be it.

Fox hated Whisper's hunting trips outside the park, but she couldn't help it. Sometimes she just needed to feel wild again. Out in the meadow she could still sense Bold's presence. Once, she went all the way back to the city, just to give it a try, and during her week there she visited all the old places she and Bold used to travel.

_Will it ever stop_, she wondered. Would she ever stop feeling guilty for what she did to him? Whisper wished she hadn't told him why she let him be her mate. It was the worst thing he could have done, next to making him leave the city. She swallowed her tears and instead looked at this new fox beside her.

Handsome enough, strong too. She remembered him catching two hares and a pheasant during their wandering. Whisper still had a few more litters left in her before it was past her time.

No, she shook her head. It would be a betrayal. _A betrayal of what, though? Bold has been dead a long time now, and I've had litters since._ But none of them she accepted as a mate for more than a season. This would be different, if she let it.

Thunder shook her hovel. Whisper shivered. She shut her eyes and curled up beside the nameless male. Hopefully she would remember his name come dinnertime.

"Stupid Measley," Weasel grumbled. "Couldn't find his head if it wasn't screwed on so tight." Thunder cracked above. She glared at the sky. "I heard you the first time you measley little storm! You can shut up now!" Thunder shook the forest again. "Fine, don't listen to me! No one does these days!" She kicked a soggy stick then kept walking. _When I find Measley he's going to wish he never laid eyes on me._

The only good thing that came from having a mate was her offspring. Just thinking about them made Weasel smile. She knew the other animals thought she hated being a mother, but it was only to keep up apperances. She wouldn't know what to do if she wasn't a mother, besides creating mischief and all that.

Weasel crossed her arms as she tried to pick up Measley's scent. He had a thing for finding new places to sleep (a habit they picked up from their adventures outside of the park) and it seemed now, during a storm, he decided to change it on her, taking their triplets with him. Weasel huffed under her breath. She certainly knew how to pick them, didn't she?

In truth, he picked her, and she still didn't understand why. Out of all the weasels in the park, he decided she was worth all the trouble? Really? Weasel shook her head. She didn't understand it.

Weasel heard a very familiar giggle. "Rollo, where are you? I can hear you, you know!" No answer. Weasel frowned and picked up the pace. "If you think hiding is going to make this any better, you've got another thing co-" Weasel's scolding caught in her throat as she found her mate's new hovel.

Rollo and his brother Ollie with his sister Joy were curled up on a pile of soft hay half inside the base of a tree trunk. She wondered how Measley managed to carry it all. From the looks of it, they were all asleep. Rollo must have been giggling in his sleep, as he often did. Measley was there too, between the boys who often scrapped whenever together, fast asleep.

She felt the hay and realized how fresh this batch was. Whatever anger she had for her mate dissipated, at least till morning. She settled in behind her daughter and wrapped an arm around her mate's waist. Weasels needed their beauty sleep, after all.

Friendly sat on the little ledge across from his sister's den. While on patrol in the storm, he saw them leave and decided to wait until they got back. He had been meaning for some time to speak with Ranger, but the opportunity hadn't arisen yet.

When Plucky took over as head fox, Friendly didn't raise a stink about it. He knew Ranger's thoughts on the matter, seeing as he had stood a good chance of taking the position. Now that Plucky had children and a mate of his own, it was very easy to see Fox in his grandson's eyes. This shouldn't have made Friendly as uncomfortable as it did.

Charmer would call him foolish. Hadn't he learned anything from when Bold left? He was too old for adventures. Perhaps his sister was right about that, but Friendly didn't think of it as an adventure. He already had a destination in mind.

Willow would be waiting up for him, as she often did when he spent time in the park. He thought back to when they first met at the park's edge, she trying to sneak in and he trying to sneak out. After a few days of showing her around, she came to the conclusion she didn't like it in the park and Friendly realized he didn't like the park without her in it.

How quickly he fell for her! It was enough to make any self-respecting fox cringe. And yet . . . he thought of his father, who knew without a doubt Vixen was the life-long mate he had been waiting for. Hadn't it been the same for Charmer, for Bold? This love thing seemed to be a family trait, passed down by his father's big heart and his mother's soft words.

But none of that mattered now. He wanted to be Willow's mate, but he couldn't be if he still lived in the park. The meadow was exactly where they needed to be. _I'll still visit, when I can, and she . . ._ Willow could avoid it at all costs. His father wouldn't like that. Fox's approval, however, paled in comparison to Friendly's desire to leave.

Ranger's bark caught him off guard. Charmer wagged her tail as they came up the path. "Friendly! To what do we owe this surprise?" his sister asked.

"I uh, I was just out and about and I thought . . . might I come in, for a moment?"

"Of course you can, Brother!" said Ranger. "You're always welcome here."

Friendly jumped off the edge and followed his brother-in-law inside, exhaling his nerves as they went deeper into the den.


End file.
